Who are you?
Nothing. Yet, I know I am.
hello vonnie
Cosmic Funnies
wallacepolsom
let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Keni
noise dept.

JBB: An Artblog!

No title available
trying on a metaphor

Kaledo Art

blake kathryn
One Nice Bug Per Day
YOU ARE THE REASON
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
we're not kids anymore.
Three Goblin Art
occasionally subtle
Sade Olutola
Monterey Bay Aquarium

Andulka
seen from Israel

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from Germany

seen from Germany

seen from Czechia

seen from Türkiye
seen from Saudi Arabia

seen from Malaysia

seen from Türkiye

seen from Italy

seen from United Kingdom
seen from Canada

seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
@ramanaschild
Who are you?
Nothing. Yet, I know I am.
Life is a gift.
Joy and suffering
are just God opening
the gift wrapping.
Humanity has finally found a way to communicate with crabs, we realize they're smarter than us. Now that they know we know, what are they going to do?
Love has planted in us its seed, to nurture it till it grows into a tree, a home for beasts, butterflies, bees, and all who seek love and peace.
When you are thirsty,
I shall be the rain,
with my lips, kiss away your pain.
The journey to presence,
begins in the land
of silence.
At our heart's door, Truth waits,
for us to return one day,
to her embrace.
At our heart's door, Truth waits,
for us to return one day,
to her embrace.
In your presence, at your feet,
hours become days become weeks,
Filled with the silence of your peace,
and a blissful absence of me.
An early morning flight to catch.
Worry is like a rocking chair,
it rocks us back and forth,
but takes us nowhere.
An empty room,
is filled with space,
an empty mind, with grace.
The direct path
takes us as soon as we start,
to the Heart.
Until we turn to the light within,
our ego will be the shadow,
that we follow.
Arunachala, beyond branching thoughts,
its shaking leaves,
your stilness is my relief.
We are not the body,
but that which is aware
of the body it wears.
Not ours the breath, heartbeat,
or thoughts that we think we think,
we’re puppets on a string.